


Seeing Her

by OceanMelon



Category: Hakushaku to Yousei | Earl and Fairy
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, HakuYou: volume seven, light novels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanMelon/pseuds/OceanMelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How I wanted volume seven, chapter one to go. Where Edgar goes to pick up Lydia on a whim after she runs away from him at the end of volume six.<br/>Based in the light novel universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Her

**Author's Note:**

> I was just getting really frustrated by vol7 and smashed this thing out in an afternoon. Sorry if it's terrible. I tried to stick to the light novel's style but it's so, completely opposite to my natural style that it might not have worked too well. Please ignore the fact that he would need to know her address to send her letters. Also, I apologise to every Scottish person on the planet.

The station was crowded but Edgar paid the passersby no mind. It was a solid wall of noise as friends and family were greeted after long absences, the train’s whistle blew, and porters were hailed by the more wealthy passengers on the train that had just arrived from London. Edgar didn’t bother calling for a porter; he had hardly brought anything with him anyway.

The station was grey with winter chill and, even indoors, mist hung like an army of ghosts in the air. Edgar fastened his coat tighter over his scarf to provide a little extra defence against the northern chill and shifted his cane in his icy hand. Not one iota of the discomfort he felt showed on his face and he smiled cordially to the wealthy couple who had occupied the cabin next to his when their eyes met in the sea of people swarming through the station.

Tompkins, his butler, would surely be mad when night fell and the master of the house still didn’t return without even sending a note. Raven wouldn’t mind, though. He would know where Edgar had gone. Somehow he always understood his master’s whims and had an impeccable record of predicting when they would take him.

An elderly woman brushed against Edgar as he strolled calmly through the chaos of Edinburgh Station.

“Oi, watch it!” she cried as a mountain of bread rolls threatened to tumble out of her arms. “This is exactly what’s wrong with the rich folk these days...”

Edgar steadied her arms, even catching three rolls that had come loose before they hit the grubby stone floor.

The woman glared up at him but he only returned the look with a gentle smile, his ash-mauve eyes closing ever so slightly at the action.

“I’m terribly sorry, Ma’am. I do hope you are not hurt.” His voice was equally gentle. “Are you in a hurry? Let me fetch you a basket for these by way of an apology.”

The woman, despite clearly being at least three times Edgar’s age, blushed. “No,” she said gruffly, “s’alright.”

Edgar’s face took on an expression of pure apology. His shiny, blonde hair and smooth, pale skin both seemed far too pure and clean for the smoky, grey station.

“Oh, you _are_ in a rush, then! My apologies for keeping you and once more again for knocking into you,” said Edgar with a tip of his hat.

The woman made a visible effort to pull herself back together and stood a little straighter before the handsome young man.

“S’nothing...” she grumbled. “Just so long s’ya know.”

Then she turned and waddled away. Edgar touched the brim of his hat once more and bowed a little to her retreating back. Then he, too, turned away and took a great bite out of the bread roll he had never returned to her arms. The long train ride had made him hungry.

 --

The snow fell softly outside the cab window. Edgar closed his eyes as the carriage bounced along the uneven road. Edinburgh may have been the closest station but Lydia didn’t actually live there and the Earl of Ibrazel had hailed the first cab he spotted as he stepped out into the snow. It was almost February already but Scotland was still deep in the very heart of winter. The tiny window of the cabin was coated in a thin layer of frost where the breath of its passengers had crystallised against the pane. Edgar caught his reflection in the ice and the dark look in his eyes was enough to send a chill down even his spine. If a little cold was enough to pull the mask from his face then he really had become weak. It was Lydia who made him strong. She reminded him there was still innocence and good in the world and let him forget his enemies for a moment. He needed her. More than just as a Fairy Doctor.

At last the carriage stopped. Edgar took a deep breath and forced the gentile mask of Earl Ashenbert back onto his face. He stepped out into the cold, paid the driver and hopped up onto the curb so the carriage wheels couldn’t spray him with half-melted sludge as they rolled away.

Then he stopped.

This was the trouble with whims; they were never very well thought out. He didn’t know where Lydia lived. Still, it was a small town, someone would know.

He took a dozen steps down the street before he came to a butcher; a shop frequented by all but the very poorest and one that his fiancée was certain to have been to.

The bell gave a cheery ‘ding’ in the frigid air as Edgar stepped inside. The shop was deserted. Even the space behind the counter was empty.

Edgar walked further in, the air becoming warmer the further he got from the door. Another bell sat on the granite counter-top and the earl rung it without hesitation.

Almost a full minute later, a man, greased to the elbows in gore, emerged from the back room and cast a disinterested eye around the shop. The eye took in Edgar’s tailored coat, the fine silk on his hat and the silver handle on his cane and immediately became interested.

“What can I do for you today, sir?” said the man, pulling a towel from beneath the counter and wiping the guts from his hands. “We got some good pork in just this morning, if yer interested?”

Edgar chuckled softly. “Oh no, good sir, I’m afraid I haven’t come to buy.”

“Well, wha’dya come ta do, then?” The man’s mood instantly soured.

Edgar ignored the man’s tone and smiled. “I had intended to pay a surprise visit to my fiancée, only I have made the rather large blunder of not asking for her address before arriving.”

“Yer fiancée?” repeated the man with a face that clearly read: “There aint no fancy folk like you ‘round ‘ere.”

“Correct,” replied Edgar. “Would you happen to know where the Carltons live?”

“Yer after the Carlton girl?” asked the man, confused.

“I am indeed.”

The man looked away from Edgar’s beaming face and rubbed a finger awkwardly under his nose for a moment. The finger left a faint pink moustache where the remnants of the blood from his hands rubbed off onto the man’s skin.

“Well,” said the man at last, “I don’t mean to be tellin’ ya yer business, sir, only I’m not sure ya wanta be marryin’ such a girl.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed as his mask loosened a little from his face.

“Oh, I can tell ya where she lives, alright.” The man quickly backpedalled from Edgar’s glare. “But she’s a wee bit... well, _odd_.”

Edgar struggled to keep his flickering smile in place. He leaned forward onto the counter and forced a curious face.

“Really?” he asked. “Odd, how?”

The man relaxed at the stranger’s friendly tone. Perhaps it was a political marriage and this pleasant young nobleman had never come across the anomaly that was Lydia Carlton. Perhaps he wouldn’t take offence at _anything_ the butcher said about her.

“Well, she says she can see fairies. Then she calls ‘erself a Fairy Doctor. As if such make believe things’d _need_ a doctor. She’ll be eighteen soon, sir. Don’t you reckon she oughta have grown outa such children’s stories by now?”

Edgar leaned back off the counter again. Had Lydia really preferred to go back to a town where people viewed her as a freak rather than stay with him? Was he hated after all?

He brushed the fears aside. He would know when he saw her.

“I can see how such claims might concern you but, I can assure you, she’s telling the truth,” replied Edgar at last.

“The truth, sir? Are ya tellin’ me fairies are real? It’s the 19th century, sir, the age of thinkin’ men. You can’t trick me so easily.” The man laughed. The only way he would accept Edgar’s words were as a joke.

Edgar smiled but the ice was seeping into his gaze again. His eyes hardened further with every moment the man laughed on. So that when he finally joined in, the man immediately stopped at the ruthless tone of it.

The smile was more of a wicked grin now. “I hate to tell you this, my man,” said Edgar as he reached into his coat’s inner pocket for his card, “but you have just claimed fairies don’t exist to the Earl of Ibrazel.”

He handed the card over and the man stared down, ashen faced, at the words ‘Edgar J.C Ashenbert, Earl of Ibrazel’ embossed beautifully into the paper. Even in such a small country town, the exploits (mostly his dealings with women) of Earl Ashenbert were common knowledge. He had been on the cover of every tabloid in London for the past few months and news travelled quickly now that people moved so easily about the country on trains.

“I suppose you think, then, that my lands are just as mythical. Am I the lord of a land that does not exist?”

“O-of course not, sir. I would never ‘ave dreamed of insultin’–” The man’s babbling was cut off by the sound of the bell over the door.

“Edgar?”

Both men turned so see a woman with coffee coloured hair, pulled high in a ponytail on her head, step out of the cold and into the butcher’s.

Edgar’s smile fell back perfectly into place in an instant. “Lota!” he said cheerfully. “What perfect timing.”

“What are _you_ doing here?” asked Lota, stomping the snow from her boots onto the poor butcher’s floor. “I saw you from the street and I had to make sure it wasn’t you but... it really is.”

“Well, I was at Slade’s and I suddenly got it into my head to come see Lydia. So, here I am.” He held out his arms like a magician who had just finished a trick.

“And I suppose you would like me to show you the way? Unless you have stopped by the butcher’s for the sake of picking up a visiting gift, though that does seem unlikely knowing you.” Lota raised an eyebrow.

“A guide would be much appreciated.”

“No chance in hell.” Her tone was flat. “Whose fault do you think it is that she decided to run away from you for the Christmas break?”

“ _You_ were the one who suggested it!”

“And _you_ were the one who left her alone with no one but Kelpie and a handful of fairies for company after everything that happened at Wallcave.”

Edgar opened his mouth to retaliate but there was nothing he could say. He was the one at fault. That was why he had let her go in the first place.

Still, it wasn’t like he could admit that.

“If you don’t show me the way, I’m sure my new friend would be happy to,” he replied childishly.

At this moment both Edgar and Lota turned to the butcher who shrunk at the gaze of two such strong characters.

“Don’t do it,” said Lota. “This man is the enemy of all women.”

“You know I have given that all up. We’ve known each other long enough for you to see I’m a changed man.” Edgar was still speaking to Lota despite the fact that she was trying to bore a hole through the butcher’s eyes with her stare.

“Even if you have improved _a little_ you’re still a long way from being decent,” said Lota, still not looking back at the earl.

“Aye, sir. If ye’ll be lookin’ to marry a special girl, it’s best to stop with all the womanisin’.” Lota’s glare finally won the butcher over and he spoke in her favour.

“I’ll have you know I’m very loyal,” snapped Edgar but the petty argument was just what he needed to forget everything for the moment and relax. His eyes shone with glee.

“Bullshit,” said Lota and the butcher’s eyes went wide.

“I’ll have to agree with the lass, sir. Ye’ve been in all the papers recently,” he said when he had recovered from his shock.

“Most of those articles are just malicious rumours.”

“ _Most,_ Edgar? You mean there is some truth to them?” Lota laughed. She had won.

“I’ll admit I did meet with Miss Browser but it was hardly a proposal of marriage and I will not claim responsibility for her elopement with another man!” said Edgar. “That is the only truth I have found so far in the tabloids and Lydia understands I didn’t do anything wrong there. She was with me for most of it.”

“Relax, Edgar. I know most of that stuff is lies or people using your name to pull chicks,” replied Lota.

“What a lovely turn of phrase you have,” said Edgar but the incident with Maggie Morris was still too fresh in his mind to put aside the idea of people impersonating him to ‘pull chicks’.

The bell above the door rang again and a young woman stepped into the shop. Edgar nodded his head towards her in greeting and the girl blushed prettily beneath a spattering of freckles. Lota rolled her eyes.

“If ye’ll excuse me,” said the butcher and went to serve the girl.

Lota and Edgar looked at each other for a moment.

“Perhaps we ought to continue this outside,” said Edgar.

“Perhaps _you_ ought to go home,” mumbled Lota as they both stepped back out into the cold.

 --

Lota didn’t say anything as they walked through the near-deserted street. Everyone who could was wrapped up warm at home in front of a fire and carriages were few and far between in such a little town. The snow still fell gently but neither Edgar not Lota had an umbrella and so could only let it settle in tiny drifts on their shoulders. Soon, both their coats were growing damp. The clouds hung low in the sky and clung to the moors that could just be seen beyond the village, grey and mottled green.

Edgar knew Lota was leading them to Lydia’s house. She didn’t need to say it. While Lota had never agreed with Edgar’s philandering ways, even going so far as to try and separate him from her friend Betty when they became lovers, she always gave in to him in the end. Besides, if she was honest, the pathetic lump he had turned into in Lydia’s absence was just depressing. He would have won such a trivial argument while also singing ‘God Save the Queen’ in his head before he was dumped so brutally. She didn’t want to admit it but there really was something different about Lydia to Edgar. She wasn’t like his other conquests and not just because she still hadn’t been conquered. That and she couldn’t stand to watch Lydia now that Edgar had stopped writing every single day. Lydia was convinced that something must have happened to him and was about to fret herself to death. Lota couldn’t watch her do it to herself. So she led them both silently down the street towards the little stone cottage where Lydia lived and hoped her friend would forgive her for bringing such a jerk to her door.

 --

Edgar stopped short of the house. Even though Lota remained silent, he could read ‘ _Lydia Carlton, Fairy Doctor_ ’ on the sign nailed to her fence from where he stood. They had arrived. Lota looked back at him once, found him unmoving, shrugged and just continued on.

Edgar didn’t want to move. All his fear had come back in an instant and had halted him in his tracks. It was so stupid to be afraid of Lydia hating him when the Prince could take his life at any moment. And yet, Edgar had never been afraid to die, only of her never doing more than just tolerating him. It was exactly why he had wanted her to return of her own accord. Then he could be sure of already being forgiven. But still, even if she hated him, he just wanted to see her. He wanted to see her smile and let her worry about him in that too kind-hearted way she always did. After all, even if she hated him, even if he was a villain, she was sure to still worry about him. That would never change.

Perhaps this whim had been a bad idea. He just wanted to see her face but he knew that if he saw her face, he’d want to hear her voice. And if he heard her voice he would want to touch her. And if he touched her, he’d want to kiss her. And if he kissed her... No, he should just turn around and go back to London before whatever hope of Lydia ever loving him died completely. Besides if he did kiss her, if she _did_ miraculously fall in love with him, he would have to take her with him when he inevitably got caught up in some battle with the Prince. Lydia, who was good and kind and innocent and so, _so_ amazingly _pure_ , wouldn’t be able to survive the sort of hurt the Prince was capable of inflicting. He had to keep her safe. Even more so if he loved her.

So Edgar turned on his heel and began to walk away.

The snow stopped. Edgar could still see it falling just beyond his nose but it wasn’t falling on him anymore. He looked up and saw the stretch of black canvas over his head and turned over his shoulder to find Lydia. She was hunched over, trying to catch her breath but still resolutely holding the umbrella over Edgar’s head. Her caramel coloured hair fell in sheets on either side of her face and Edgar couldn’t see any more of her. She didn’t seem to notice the tips of her hair dangling into the muddy snow at her feet. She must have run with all her might to catch up to him.

He wanted to see her face. God, he really wanted to see her. It had been far too long. He knelt down in the snow-sludge, staining one knee with muck, and brushed her hair gently away from her forehead. His fingers were so soft, they did barely anything but it was enough for Lydia to snap her heap up and look at him, cheeks flushed pink and eyes bright from exercise. She couldn’t be real. Someone so beautiful couldn’t be real. He had to have just dreamed it that she had run after him. Edgar was sure that none of this had ever happened. He had never set off for the station on a whim from Slade’s club. He had never bumped into an old woman in Edinburgh Station or stolen a bread roll from her. He had never met the butcher who thought Lydia was a ‘wee bit odd’. His mask had never slipped at all because he was still home in bed in London and was just dreaming that Lydia was right there in front of him, had chased after him, was looking at him with such adoration in her eyes. She couldn’t be real so he had no qualms about cupping both her cheeks in his hands and tilting her chin up towards him so that he might have a better view of her face. He didn’t hesitate to tilt his own face downwards, ready to place his lips against hers. But before he could, she spoke.

“Edgar!” she said at last, face blushing pinker. “Did something happen? Why are you here? Is everyone alright?”

Edgar laughed. It was never about only him. She hadn’t changed. She was real. But somehow that just made him want to kiss her all the more.

**Author's Note:**

> [And then, of course, Edgar had a whale of a time showing her off to all the townsfolk and Lydia spent most of the afternoon blushing and insisting that they weren’t engaged. The End.]
> 
> Sorry, I got tired of trying to make this a stand alone story without unexplained references to the light novels about half way through. Here are some bits that might not make sense:  
> "Both men turned so see a woman with coffee coloured hair, pulled high in a ponytail on her head... “Lota!” [Edgar] said cheerfully." -- Lota is from volume six (is she also in the anime?) -- She's pretty much always described this way, as a girl with 'coffee coloured hair pulled up into a high ponytail'. She's former pirate turned something-that-I-can't-tell-you-without-ruining-the-whole-sixth-book. She's also Lydia's best (non-fairy) friend. Yeah, you should probs just read the book. There's a lot of stuff.
> 
> “And you were the one who left her alone with no one but Kelpie and a handful of fairies for company after everything that happened at Wallcave.” -- Also volume six. -- I can't explain this without giving away the book, though that's probably a bit obvious.
> 
> "even going so far as to try and separate him from her friend Betty when they became lovers." -- Still volume six. -- Betty is Lotta's friend (and one of Edgar's former lovers) from when she (and him) were in America. She possessed a ring said to belong to a lost princess of some country and left to take up her role as princess. A couple of years later, Lota got a letter saying Betty was engaged to the Blue Knight Earl and came to England to see her. Finding Edgar was the BKE, she confronted him and... volume six ensues. 
> 
> "but the incident with Maggie Morris was still too fresh in his mind to put aside the idea of people impersonating him to ‘pull chicks’." -- See volume four (really, you should read volume four, it's my favourite). -- I can't explain this one to you without spoiling the book...
> 
> “I’ll admit I did meet with Miss Browser but it was hardly a proposal of marriage and I will not claim responsibility for her elopement with another man!” -- this is from the short story 'Eloping on the Moonlit Night' in volume eight. -- This one doesn't really need explaining in order for the plot to make sense and it's been a while since I read it but I will try to explain. But Miss Bowser (whose given name I have quite forgot) loved some painter (?) and planned to elope with him. She and Edgar met at a party (?) where her dad tried to promote some relationship between them to make her forget the painter. Edgar did his usual thing... But they really weren't involved. He's just an incorrigible flirt.
> 
> I'm pretty sure all these volumes are available to read in English on earlandfairy.weebly.com along with the actual first chapter of volume seven. The rest of volume seven, volume nine, ten and the first two chapters of eleven (ch3 is due for release 05 june 2016) are available on hakushakutoyousei.weebly.com. Volume eight is a collection of short stories. I can't remember if the whole thing is on earlandfairy or not. You'll have to look or yourself. But at least most of it is.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it :) Sorry for this very long AN.  
> Ocean.


End file.
